8 - Samantha
My head is spinning when I walk back out the sliding glass doors. I glance over at the nearby taxi rank and shake my head. Might as well take the subway back to Jess’s place and explore this city a little bit. I’m in no rush to get back to the house anyways.
I check my phone for directions and head down the street, following the little blue line on the screen. I slip my phone back in my pocket and sigh. My heart feels lighter than it has in days. I haven’t thought of Ronnie in hours.
Ronnie.
As soon as his name pops into my mind, a chill goes down my spine. The hurt is still raw. If I think of him too long, the heartache starts to sink into my bones. Every time I think of him it’s like rubbing salt on the wound. It stings. My face falls and my brows knit together as I keep walking towards the subway station.
Should I be going out on a date with a guy I just met? I’m not even divorced yet! That blue folder is still laying on top of the dresser in my room where I left it last night. I square my shoulders. I feel more ready to sign them than I did yesterday. If I’m honest, I feel more ready to sign those papers now than I did a couple hours ago.
Dean’s body paints itself in my mind’s eye. I remember the way his skin felt when my fingertips brushed against his shoulder, and the way his whole body rippled with muscles. Every time he looked at me I felt like blushing, and every time he spoke it sent vibrations through my chest.
I make it to the subway steps and head down. For a few minutes, I think about nothing except where I’m going and which train to get on. As soon as the subway gets to the platform and I slide inside, I find a seat and think of Dean again.
My heart hasn’t beat that hard in ages. I think of his little polka-dot boxer briefs and the way his cock was outlined. Is it just me or was he a little bit hard? My cheeks start to blush at the thought of it. I shake my head to dispel the thoughts. Of course he wasn’t hard. That’s a bit presumptuous of me to think that I could turn him on by just being next to him.
I’m just horny and alone and heartbroken and he’s the first man that’s given me any attention since Ronnie, that’s all.
Still, when I think about the look that Dean gave me when I was wiping his face, somehow it feels like a little bit more than passing flirtation.
Before I know it, the subway is sliding into the station and I jump up to get off. I make my way up the stairs and spin around at the top to get my bearings. I glance at my phone and nod slowly, heading off in the direction of Jess’s house.
I don’t know what to think. I let my feet take me back to her house and climb the steps slowly. I slip in the front door, trying not to make too much noise. Footsteps come down the hallway and Jess appears.
“Sam! I was starting to wonder where you were. Did you make it to the hospital ok? How much was the cab? Is Clifford OK?”
It takes me a second to realise she means Dean. I nod. “I took the subway back. It was fine,” I say. It was great, actually. “I left before they saw him but it’s probably broken.”
“Oh gosh,” Jess says, shaking her head. “I’m going to have to call the company and send a card. Matt is in his room. Apparently he hit him right in the crotch with the baseball bat, Owen saw everything.”
I grin. “Disaster.”
“Tell me about it,” Jess says over her shoulder as we walk back towards the kitchen. “I have some spaghetti made if you want any?”
“Sounds great.” I grab a plate and help myself to some food as Jess putters around the kitchen. I watch her and laugh. “I never knew you’d be the domestic type. You used to be the party animal!”
“Well, twins will do that to you,” she says with a wry smile. “I hardly have a minute to myself.”
“Sit and eat with me,” I say. Jess glances at me and smiles.
“Ok,” she nods. When we’re both sitting down she looks at me and shakes her head. “You’re in a very good mood. What happened?”
“Nothing,” I say, spinning my fork to get a big bite of pasta. “I might have a date though, so don’t worry about the apology card.”
Jess’s jaw drops and she lets out a laugh. “What!”
I shrug. “I don’t know how it happened. He’s really nice! And funny.”
“Clifford the Clown is taking you out,” she laughs. “Good for you,” Jess says with a satisfied nod. “That’s exactly what you should be doing.”
There’s a pang in my chest but I ignore it. “You should see him without that costume on,” I say with a smile. “He looks even better.”
“Jesus, Sam, you didn’t…?”
“No! God, no. He just changed out of his costume before going to the hospital.” For some reason I don’t want to tell her about helping him change. I don't want to tell her about wiping his face or seeing his bare chest and boxer briefs. I want those moments to stay locked away inside me. Saying them out loud feels like it would somehow cheapen them.
“Right,” Jess says, shaking her head. “I was thinking that would be out of character for you.”
“Also, he has a broken arm,” I say with a laugh. A twin appears in the doorway completely naked, with water trailing all behind her. Jess jumps up and wraps Michelle in her arms, carrying her back down the hallway. I shake my head and finish my food in silence before washing my dishes and heading to my room.
I close the door and lean against it, grateful for a bit of quiet. The blue folder is still sitting on top of the dresser, exactly where I left it last night. I narrow my eyes and walk towards it. I fling the folder open and look at the dozen little yellow tabs on all the sheets, all waiting for my signature.
There’s a pen in my purse somewhere, so I rummage around until I find it. I take it out, pulling the cap off in a quick movement. I flick through the pages, signing and initialing where I’m supposed to. My heart is thumping and by the time I get to the last page, my eyes are starting to get blurry. I take the yellow envelope at the back of the files and stuff the papers inside. It’s already stamped and addressed, so I lick the flap and seal it shut. I can’t see anything from the tears in my eyes, so I sit down on my bed. The pen drops to the floor and I put my head in my hands as I let the tears flow from my eyes.
I cry for a few minutes before sniffling and wiping my face. I sit up a bit straighter and square my shoulders, glancing at the folder. With a deep breath, I get up and wipe the last tear away from my eye.
It’s done. The papers are signed, and now they just need to be dropped in a mailbox.
I’m as good as divorced.